The Other Option
by baker's huntress
Summary: Unable to sleep, Fitz and Simmons have another heart to heart after their conversation at the motel pool.


**The Other Option**

_Summary:_ Unable to sleep, Fitz and Simmons have another heart to heart after their conversation at the motel pool.

_Disclaimer:_ Anything pertaining to _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._ does not belong to me.

_A/N:_ This is a follow up to my story _Leo Fitz, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D._ You don't have to read that to understand this, though.

I'm kind of backtracking a little bit with this story. The finale…goodness, my heart is still aching over FitzSimmons. Gah! I have some ideas lined up that will deal with the aftermath of the finale. And I'll eventually get them written and posted. But for now, I have this story, which is set at the end of _Nothing Personal_.

* * *

Simmons felt, rather than saw, Fitz glance at the clock that hung on the wall behind the tube-television, which was currently broadcasting a replay of the local news. It was the fifth time he did so within the last twenty minutes.

"Jemma?" he whispered to her from where he sat with his back against the headboard. He was a half-meter away from her on the same queen-sized bed.

"Yes, Fitz." She didn't bother taking her eyes off of the TV, which now showed a commercial for a car sale at some dealership.

"It's almost midnight." She made a show of shifting her eyes upward towards the clock.

"So it is."

"Aren't you worried?" he asked, his voice louder than it had previously been. Simmons shushed him and winced when it had come out harsher than she had intended. Then she looked towards Skye, who was asleep on the other bed.

"Not so loud, Fitz," she admonished lightly once she turned back to him. Then more gently, "She just finally got to sleep, the poor thing."

"But aren't you worried that it's almost midnight, and Triplett hasn't come back from whatever '_fun'_ he's having?" He'd kept his voice low this time. Simmons merely turned her attention back to the television.

"I'm sure he can handle himself," she said in nonchalance. "He's most likely been trained to be inconspicuous in crowds and to detect danger. And if he had been made, I'm sure he can handle any altercation that may have occurred."

"Well, I know _that._ But that wasn't what I was referring to." She turned to him again.

"How did you mean, then?"

Fitz turned away from her to face the television, though Simmons knew he wasn't paying any attention to it. She stayed silent as she waited for him to reply and watched as a myriad of emotions flickered across his face—frustration, confusion, and others she couldn't quite place. When he finally answered, he still avoided her gaze.

"I mean, I thought you and Triplett had an…_understanding_. And, right now, he's probably off somewhere having _fun_ with some other woman. Doesn't that bother you?" He snuck a peak in her direction before turning forward again.

"No," she answered firmly. "It does not."

He turned and stared at her—studying her while hiding his thoughts behind an impassive expression. After several long seconds, he signaled the end of his scrutiny with a nod of his head. When he scooted lower on the bed so he could lay his head on his stack of pillows instead of the headboard, Simmons began breathing again. She hadn't even realized she had stopped in the first place.

"That's it?" she asked in slight confusion as he watched the television, which was now featuring an infomercial for a ridiculous looking exercise machine. "You're just going to drop it? You're not going to pry?"

"I figured you'd tell me if you really wanted to." His answer made her smile. And surprisingly, she found that she really did want to tell him. Mimicking his position, she scooted lower and rested her head on her stack of pillows.

"He's not the right guy for me," she started, making sure to keep her voice low so as not to wake Skye.

"No?" he asked. By that point, they both stopped pretending to watch TV and opted to stare at the stucco on the ceiling.

"No. I didn't appreciate how he talked badly about my friends."

"Is this about the comment he made about May? Something about not needing her?"

"Well, he said it more vulgar than that, but yes. That was the start of it."

"Start? There were more?"

"When you were…when we found out about—about Ward—"

"You mean when I lost it?"

"Yes. He tried to stop me from following you into Koenig's office, afraid that you would hurt me." Fitz snorted as he tried to contain his laughter so as not to wake the sleeping Skye.

"That's ridiculous. I'd never hurt you, Jemma."

"I know that. I told him so as well. But he insisted that I leave you alone and give you some space until you calmed down. I didn't like how he was actually physically keeping me from you by standing in my way. I think I may have ordered him to stand aside."

"Did he?"

"Well, not before asking what we were to each other first." Simmons felt the bed shift slightly, and from her peripheral vision, she saw Fitz turn his head to look at her.

"What'd you tell him?" Simmons turned her head so she could look right back at him.

"That you were my dearest friend, and I will always be by your side whenever you needed me." He smiled at her, which she reciprocated. Then, as one, they straightened their heads so they could look at the stucco again.

"Then he questioned agent Coulson's leadership," Simmons continued.

"I thought you took his side on that one." Simmons sighed.

"Yeah, I guess I did. But so did you for a little bit towards the end, if I recall."

"And we were proven wrong to doubt him. He led us to Providence."

"But we weren't safe even in Providence. We aren't safe now. And we're not even agents anymore. We're _vigilantes_."

Silence blanketed them for several seconds.

"I have an idea about that, Jemma." Fitz sounded so uncharacteristically serious that Simmons turned to look at him. He, however, kept his gaze on the ceiling. "Maria Hill works for Mr. Stark now. Maybe she can help."

"You mean, work for Stark Industries?" Hope filled her words. And she couldn't help the smile that the thought brought to her face. But both her hope and her smile vanished at Fitz's next words.

"I'm really going to miss you, though."

And Simmons felt as if her world had shifted for the second time in just a matter of days. Sadness and confusion warred within her, making it difficult to speak.

"You…You're not coming with me if I go?"

Finally, Fitz turned to meet her gaze.

"No, Jemma." The apology was clear in his eyes. "Coulson needs me. I've already told him I'd follow him anywhere. You, Jemma, you need structure. You need rules and protocols to follow. With S.H.I.E.L.D. gone, you can find what you need at Stark Industries."

"And you, Fitz?" He turned away again, but Simmons couldn't keep her eyes off of him.

"Over these last couple of days, I've realized something. I've realized that I'm not merely an engineer who happened to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.—I _am_ an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Even if it has fallen, as long as we're still fighting in its name, S.H.I.E.L.D. can rise again. I want to stay with Coulson and help him fight. Maybe someday, we can even rebuild it." He turned back to her again, and even though he tried to hide it, Simmons still saw the sadness lurking in his eyes. "It's okay if you want to leave, Jemma. All I've always wanted is for you to be happy. Even if it means we won't be FitzSimmons anymore."

_No more FitzSimmons_? The thought of being without Fitz was so absurd and foreign that her brain would have dismissed the idea completely if it wasn't for the gnawing in her heart. She forced her mind to imagine a scenario of a world—her world—without Fitz by her side. No one to finish her thoughts and sentences. No one willing to fix her morning tea for her. No one to watch Doctor Who with. No one to make her homemade pesto aioli for.

She would most likely never see him again once she left. She wouldn't know where he was, if he was hurt, or if he was even still alive.

And her heart clenched.

The not knowing would destroy her.

In that moment, she found her reason to stay with the team.

"I'm staying."

He turned to her, eyes wide with surprise.

"But—"

"—No 'buts.' My mind's made up. You're stuck with me."

* * *

_AN2: _I've made it no secret that I was a bit (okay, a lot) disappointed with Jemma for a few episodes there. But something shifted after Fitz's breakdown, and she started becoming a good friend again. And they were connecting again like FitzSimmons should. So I started forgiving her. Then with the finale, I've now completely forgiven her. How could I not? That goodbye scene tore my heart to pieces.


End file.
